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Truth be told, Frederick enjoyed St. Nicholas Day at least as much as the children did; by the look on his face this morning - eager and impatient and smiling - he liked it the best of the lot. Young Freddie and Little Annie were both bright with anticipation, but neither of them was the barely-suppressed ball of energy that their father was; they were relatively calm at breakfast, very nearly as well-behaved as young children usually are, and did not even mention any hopes they might be cherishing for the day.
It was Frederick, naturally, who brought it up. “Do you know what today is?”
Anne looked at him with mingled exasperation and amusement. Really, why get them worked up now, when they still had the whole day before them? Frederick grinned back, unabashed.
“St. Nicholas Day,” said Freddie.
“Indeed, it is. And do you know what that means?”
“Presents!” said Annie.
“Yes, presents,” agreed Frederick, “but it is the start of the Christmas season, which means food and friends and games and all sorts of good things!”
The children nodded politely, but it was the presents that mattered, and it was the presents that were to be had this evening. Children of four and five knew their priorities.
“I do not know that they appreciated all that you were trying to impress them with,” said Anne smilingly after the children had left with their nurse, pouring Frederick another cup of coffee and helping herself to another muffin.
“They will tonight,” said Frederick, “when they are full of pudding.”
Anne admitted that he might have a point.
There was no use in eating that evening before handing around the gifts. The children would not have enjoyed their meals at all, with such a bounty on their minds, and neither, of course, would Frederick. Anne watched him fondly as he hid the pile from view, anxiously waiting for the sound of the nurse’s footsteps that would herald the arrival of Freddie and Annie.
“Should we send for them again, do you think?” he asked.
“Be patient, Frederick,” laughed Anne. “I am sure Adelaide is merely taking extra care to make sure everyone looks their best tonight. She knows how important it is to you.”
At last they came. The children were still not as giddy as her husband was, Anne observed, as he handed around their presents, though they were quite joyful enough with their puzzles and blocks and kaleidoscopes; Freddie was clutching his wooden ship to his chest and refusing to let it go and Annie was showing off her new embroidered slippers to every housemaid who passed her way.
“They seem pleased,” said Frederick.
“How could they be otherwise?” said Anne.
Freddie finally put the ship aside long enough to sit down for dinner, though it had taken some wheedling from Anne for him to agree. It was a cheerful meal, Anne and Frederick listening as the children babbled their delight over their toys and the food and the sight of the figgy pudding being brought in from the kitchens.
“This is my favorite part,” said Frederick, digging in.
Anne and Frederick sat together by the fire, after Adelaide had taken the children to bed, sipping their wine, feeling warm and content.
“And now I have something for you,” said Frederick, feeling around in his coat pocket.
“Oh, my dear, I told you not to–”
“You knew perfectly well that I was not going to listen,” he grinned, placing her present in her hands, miniatures of the children that perfectly captured them as they were now, with their light curls and their dark eyes. She hastily brushed aside the tears that filled her own; her babies were growing up too quickly, and how often had she mused that she wished to keep them like this, just for a little longer? Her own gift for him - some new embroidered handkerchiefs - seemed inadequate now. Frederick told her not to be silly.
“They had a good day, the children.” She heard the question in his voice.
“Of course they did.”
“My fondest memories from my own childhood are from Christmastide,” he said. “I want it to be a special time for them, too.”
“You certainly always make it so. I begin to fear we spoil them,” said Anne, resting her head on his shoulder and nestling closer.
“Nonsense,” he said robustly. “It is St. Nicholas Day. This is when we are supposed to spoil them.”
“I have never met anyone quite as enthusiastic as you are, Frederick, in honoring the man.”
“Patron saint of sailors and children, my dear,” he said, kissing her temple.